The Unfortunate One
by glittersexandrainbows
Summary: Almost ten years had passed since everything seemed to go downwards. And with every passing day things only seemed to look more boring, confusing, bleak. Lima knew Kurt as the one who lost everything, who changed, who's up to no good. The unfortunate one.
1. Black and Silver

Chapter 1- Black and Silver

He was floating...just drifting through the darkness. He couldn't see a single thing, just black. It was quiet and peaceful, no voices or loud noises. No pain. It felt like there was no world outside of this dark black void, and that was perfectly okay with him. He would be perfectly content just staying here forever, in this out of body, space, time, and...everything little world. He stayed there for hours, it felt like, just hovering in the nothingness, thinking. Wondering why the real world couldn't be like this, just quiet and simple; wondering why he couldn't just float like this forever.

He began to close his eyes, deciding that he should enjoy his time in this refuge, but then, something different happened. That wasn't right, nothing different ever happened in his little world. But it did, he saw silver, bright light beginning to slowly poor out of the cracks that had begun to form in his little haven. The crakes tore bigger in the surface of his surroundings on every side, and he began to panic, breathing hard through his nose, mind racing to understand what was happening. The silver, foggy light came faster and faster, streaming out of the jagged splits in the familiar hazed environment. The cracks got bigger releasing more light that seemed to be getting brighter as each knew split was being revealed. The light began to dominate his darkness, his escape from reality. His breathing became erratic, because it was getting closer to him, reaching out with ghostly bright almost white, metallic fingers for him. The light wanted him, wanted to take him from his refuge of silence and peace, where he could just think, where he didn't have to feel, to someplace unknown. He didn't want to leave; he wanted to stay in his dark little pool, away from the intruding glare. Then he noticed something else new, as the brightness crept closer, there was a clear noise that had come with the shinning, a high ringing. It was steady and constant, and as the light got closer, the sound became louder. He began to scramble, looking for a way out of this unfamiliar invasion. But he couldn't move. He was stuck floating in the single space, watching his precious escape being overrun by the unwelcome noise and radiance. The gleaming mist was beginning to over take his vision, his haven becoming the opposite of what was there minuets before. He flinched away from the intrusive murk that had begun to lick at the sides of his porcelain skin like white flames, but the noise. Then noise began to over take all his senses. The monotonous clear ringing dominated everything. He pressed his hands to the side of his face and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to eliminate the pain and bright spots the shrillness had brought. But it simply became more deafening. The surrounding brightness was singeing his skin, but leaving it paler than before, forcing withheld whimpers through his pursed lips. The flames had passed his curled toes, shaking arms, and clenched fists; while the noise had executed every thought and word from his brain. He could only feel. When the horrific intense sensations finally became to much for his mind and body to handle, his eyes snapped open, and he screamed; his back arched as he released the first noise, other than ragged breathing and helpless whimpers, while in this hell. The scream raised higher and higher mixing with the crystal sharp ringing. While the silver white essence that had conquered his refuge finally enveloped him in a burning embrace, rendering him unconscious but jolting him awake at last.

Kurt Hummel woke up sweaty, screaming, and downright terrified. The dream had reduced him to tears because, that had never happened before. Kurt always had the same dream, or experience if you will, when he drifted to sleep. His little escape from the world was always waiting for him, and whatever happened tonight had apparently destroyed it.

He silenced his shivering cries and built up his strong exterior again, wiping at his eyes in disgust. He glanced at the bed side clock seeing that it was only a few minuets after 4:30. There was no point in trying to fall asleep again, so he swung his legs over the side of his bed and made his way to the bathroom.

Flipping the water to hot he stripped from his pajama pants, pushing them to the side with his foot and made his way over to the sink he leaned over it. He breathed and looked at his reflection in the fogging mirror, squinting his eyes and grimacing at the sweat and tear streaked face staring back. He looked weak and pathetic with blotched pale skin and bloodshot eyes. He glared at the frail inadequate being staring back at him until the steam made it impossible to see anything but the faint tint of his skin in the reflection. He huffed and bowed his head in anger before making his way over to the shower curtain.

Kurt stepped inside the scolding stream and hissed before getting used to it. He let the heat and moisture fall on his body working out the grime and salt on his skin along with the pain and irritation in his head, sending them spiraling down the drain. Kurt tilted his head back letting the water fall on his face and run down his neck along the rest of his body. He stood their for what felt like hours before opening his eyes, shaking himself out of the heat induced haze and grabbed for his shampoo. When he had finished cleaning up he shut the water off and stepped outside onto the cold tile grabbed his towel and began slowly making his way into his room, not even caring that he was dripping a trail of water behind him.

Not finding the energy to give a shit he roughly dried himself off, letting the towel drop to the floor. Kurt silently and tiredly made his way to the walk in closet that had been built for him back when they had money. The Hummel family used to have the money to do things like that, add little improvements to make the members happier than they already were. But that was before all the bad stuff happened, before Elizabeth died, before the alcohol came. Kurt sighed at the memories of that time, but quickly banished them to the corner of his mind where they belonged. He bowed his head before reaching out and grabbing a pair of black ripped supper-skinnies and a torn grey Panic at the Disco tank form the hangers. He also snatched up a pair of black fingerless gloves, and one black and one silver belt. He made his way back into the room and pulled on the cloths, not even bothering with underwear. He positioned the black belt so it hung off his hips and pulled on his combat boots before marching back into his bathroom to refine his hair.

He wiped the remaining perspiration from the mirror, hairspring his brown hair to spike up, and adding a quick line of black Kohl around his ever changing eyes. It was a Monday, the eyeliner and gravity defying hair gave the clear message that he was not to be fucked with today. He quickly brushed his teeth before exiting the bathroom making his way to the full length mirror in the corner of his room.

He admired his transformation from scared weak little boy, to 'what the hell are you looking at' badass. But he soon got distracted, because it was such a beautiful mirror, it was Elizabeths and the only thing he had left of her. It was sad to think that his now pitiful excuse for a father, didn't even have the heart to ask if Kurt wanted to keep anything of hers. No, he just threw it all away; luckily he had been drunk at the time and had forgotten to throw the mirror to the floor. When he had passed out, Kurt had snuck into her room, tears in his eyes, but had successfully pulled the crystal mirror off the wall and brought it into his room without the drunk stranger waking up. Jason never came into his room though, and even if he did, Kurt doubted he would even recognize the mirror as hers. He sighed for what felt like the billionth time that morning, giving his reflection one last look before grabbing his black school bag off the floor slinging it over his shoulder. He turned to survey his room one last time before snatching up his aviator sunglasses, leather jacket, and iPhone before he was off.

With tired strides he made his way down the stairs and to the front door. Not even bothering to look at the couch where he knew his unshaven hungover 'father' was passed out, the ground littered with beer cans and chip crumbs. With a slam of the door he was outside breathing the early morning air of lovely Lima Ohio.

He slipped on his sunglasses as he shuffled down the porch steps walking across the dried up lawn towards where he parked his baby, aka, his gleaming black and silver Ducati 848. Kurt stopped in front of it admiring its beauty before hissing in love and admiration. If anything in this world made him happy, it was Darla. He smirked before straddling her sides and throwing on his sunglasses, inserting his ear buds and pressing shuffle on his phone. He secured his backpack on the back of the bike before slipping on his jacket and letting his baby roar to life, no doubt waking a few sleeping neighbors, again. The smirk stayed intact as 'Bad Reputation' by the lovely Joan Jet began blasting through his head, and he took off down the street. His worries from the previous night and his destroyed haven forgotten. Replaced by the arrogant, sexy, never giving a shit, 100% gay Kurt Hummel.

-M


	2. Cigarettes and Tinted Bottles

Chapter 2- Cigarettes and Tinted Bottles

Kurt sped faster and faster down the main road until he got to the building that was every teenagers nightmare. High school, more specifically William McKinley High, home of the ever sucking football team the Titans and the constant national winning champions the Cheerios. It was only 6:40 when he pulled into his usual spot near the back of the school, so he had some time to just relax and not do the homework that was assigned on Friday. He got off his Darla before pulling a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket, lighting it while rounding the corner to the back of the school.

Before Kurt and his little group of 'friends' inhabited the school, the little rustic shed behind the building was just the old janitor supplies closet. But when old Janitor Bill had walked in on Kurt getting a blowjob from one of the desperate closeted male cheerleaders, he had nearly had a heart attack. After school was out Kurt returned to the shed where Bill was grabbing some extra toilet paper roles. He told the man that he fancied the secluded shack, said that it was, 'good for a quick fuck.' Kurt told Bill that he would have to deal with having to clean up any messes he might leave, endure any sight he may see, plus erase the explicit graffiti he wold leave on the side of the school. Unless he convinced Figgins to move the supplies elsewhere. Bill, who was terrified of the boys threatening attitude and menacing glare, had convinced the principle to move the supplies. He also decided to quit, deciding it was a good time to retire, not wanting to deal with the menacing kid.

Kurt smirked at the memory as he took a drag from the cigarette, kicking the old door open. He was greeted with the sight of one Santana Lopez, laying along the torn up couch their little gang had managed to drag in, blowing a puff of smoke out her lips. After closing the door he walked over to her, lifting up her head before sitting down and resting it on his lap.

"Your here early." she said, looking up at him through tired eyes.

"So are you..." he pointed out.

"True," she agreed nodding her head slightly. Kurt looked at her with questioning eyes, urging her to spill, knowing she needed someone to talk to. She rolled her eyes at his persistent stare, but let up, because she really was grateful to have him there, to have someone to listen. "Padre, came home late last night all drunk, and him and Abuela had a big latino showdown. Lets just say there are a few extra holes in the walls and a lot less plates." she finished with a sigh. Kurt nodded, taking another drag from his cig before placing his hand on hers and giving it a squeeze. He gave her a reassuring look before tilting his head back against the couch.

This is why Santana loved Kurt. He always knew when something was wrong and would rag on you until you spilt. But, then he would give you an understanding gaze or a gentle gesture, with no hint of pity or resentment. He wouldn't resort to any of that, 'i'm so sorry for you' bullshit. He was silent and compassionate, unless it required an answer. Sometimes his response to your problem was nothing more than a shoulder squeeze, but that was all it took. He had an ability to get everything, make you feel understood and a lot happier. He had a strong hard exterior and an 'i really don't give a shit attitude' but Santana knew he at least cared some for their group of misfits. She smiled up at him before sitting up.

"So Hummel, whats got you here at the shag shack at the crack of dawn? Your last fuck kick you out?" she smirked, leaning down to grab her water bottle and extinguishing the cig on the cracked floor.

He chuckled, taking a final drag and put out the flame on a metal spring on the side of the couch. "Nah. Just couldn't get back to sleep, and couldn't find any reason to stay, plus, Darla was complaining."

She groaned in mocking irritation, "When are you going to grasp the fact that your damn motorcycle is not fucking alive and doesn't need to be walked every morning like a dog." she questioned before taking a swig from the canteen.

Kurt gasped before retorting back. "You did not just compare my baby to a pet mongrel!" The Latina just giggled before offering him the bottle. "Whats in it?" he questioned.

"Water.." she answered innocently.

"Bullshit." he knowingly accused.

"Fine...Whisky, and it aint the cheep shit either. It's Monday and I have a feeling its gonna be a long one for both of us." She pushed it closer to him, and agreeing with her final statement he took the cheep tinted bottle, taking a long draw of the fiery liquid. He grinned before handing it back.

It was at that exact moment that the one and only Noah Puckerman decided to barge his way through the frail wooden frame. Grumbling to himself and throwing his beat up backpack to the dusty floor with a scowl fixed on his face.

"Aww... What wrong with the big bad Puckster this morning?" Santana asked in amusement.

Kurt eyed Noah's obviously dirty white T-shirt which had been teamed with worn blue jeans, the old black leather jacket, and combat boots.

"I hate old people." Said Puck, throwing himself next to Santana and ripping off his sunglasses in a rage. "I mean whats their big deal anyways?! This morning I stopped at 'Limas Pit Shop' for another pack of cancer and there was this really hot chick in front of me who was totally giving me the eye. But when I asked her 'if she saw anything she liked' this white hunk of wrinkles comes out of hella-fucking nowhere and just starts throwing her damn prunes at me!"

Kurt rolled his eyes and took another swig from the bottle trying to drown out Noah's personal issues with life. After what seemed like a good while he mumbled "Shouldn't be aloud in public", as he lit a cigarette . Santana just chuckled and said "Well living in a town where everyone knows everything about everyone, she probably didn't want her sweet little granddaughter to get molested by the delinquent who's fresh out of juvie."

He huffed and slouched back against the couch. "Whatever.." he mumbled looking disappointed. He got up and sat on the battered old chair next to the couch. Kurt and Santana lit a last cig before school and the three fell into a relaxed silence inside the smokey haze of their little hangout. Kurt kept on drinking, Santana took a sip every once in a while but didn't complain about him drinking the majority of it. She realized he was in a bad mood, being his ally for so long. He was good at hiding things and treated his friends moderately nice with, at least most of the time, good intensions. But everyone in the school knew by now how to identify when he was a fuse in a puddle of gasoline just waiting for a match. And if they were smart they would do everything in their power to not be anywhere near him when that match hit.

Santana and Puck were worried about the boy. They both noticed how he was just staring ahead with that glint in his eyes that made anyone worry about how he would react if they tried to touch him, or even comfort him. His fingers kept on twitching and Puck couldn't help but eye them wearily.

"You alright dude?" Puck wondered.

Kurt snapped out of his haze and narrowed his eyes at Noah. Both Santana and Puck could see Kurt tensing up. "Why the hell wouldn't I be..?" He answered in a clipped deep tone. Puck averted his eyes, shrugged and took a draw form Santana's cig, knowing that voice was just a dare to say something back. Kurt rolled his eyes and took another sip, hoping to at least feel a buzz before school.

"Wonder where Britney and Quinn are..." Santana voiced, sitting up glancing at her watch, "Even if we don't go to class, Brits usually here. It's five till."

As if on cue Britney came flying through the door with a smile on her face so bright Kurt had an urge to squint. Quinn followed behind her, with slouched shoulders and the obviously hungover expression, beneath her dark sunglasses.

"G'morning everyone!" Britney sang.

She came over and pecked all three on the lips in greeting. While Quinn dragged herself to them and dropped her exhausted body over Kurt and Santana's laps. She snuggled her face into Kurt's abdomen and groaned.

"Long night workin the streets Quinny?" Santana asked while smoothing down Quinn's Black mini-skirt over her leggings. "Cause' you look like shit."she chuckled.

Quinn grunted and ever so elegantly flipped Santana off. Kurt grinned as everyone laughed, and slipped a cigarette between Quinn's lips and lit it, granting the silent request. Kurt tilted his head backwards as the tardy bell rang from the school building. Kurt smirked.

"Guess we're skipping homeroom." he stated as he stared blankly at the termite damaged ceiling.

Britney, who had perched herself on Pucks lap, was petting his mohawk. She giggled and smiled at her best friends.

"Oh my god! You will _never_ believe what Lord Tubington did this morning!..." she exclaimed and continued on about her cats journeys. Even if everyone bar Santana wasn't really listening. She obviously didn't mind.

Britney was always happy, which was good. She was that balancing factor in the group. She wasn't as depressing or intimidating as the rest of them and had this sort of power to understand everyone and making everyone at least a little happier. But all knows that she is not a force to be reckoned with. She may be the sweetest person in the world but piss her off and she could kick the ass of any football player in the school.

When Brit's story was over she Santana and Puck fell into a conversation about details on a party coming that weekend. While Kurt stroked Quinn's soft pink hair he began to drift. The Whiskey had started to have an effect on him. He closed his eyes and let his mind wander. Eventually though, the bell rang signaling the end of homeroom. They all groaned and reluctantly got up and grabbed their bags. Quinn took some coaxing but eventually they we're all headed out. Stubbing cigarettes and dropping them to the ground, passing around Santana's bottle for a swig or two each, accept for Quinn. They made their way to the front of the school, repositioning sunglasses and glared up at the building.

Kurt sighed, "Alright...lets get this shit over with."

Santana hooked arms with Britney and began a conversation about Cheerios practice on one side of Kurt. Quinn, who was still having trouble talking without being sick was on the other with her head on his shoulder with Puck beside her. Kurt took one last sip from the bottle and handed it back to Santana. And with that, they began their Assent up the stairs to the entrance of the school. Kurt and Santana kicked the front doors open and they entered with smirks and glares intact. Good Morning McKinley.

-M


End file.
